Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I have to remind myself that I have Ford. I have Ford. He’s going to help me. He’s going to find Mom and bring her home and get her help, and maybe he can’t cure her, maybe nobody can, but he’ll at least help.
I step off the elevator and head up toward our room. Something looks off—the living room looks like someone’s been pulling the cushions off and looking around behind them. Maybe Ford lost something in the couch? I’m too panicked and upset to think about it and go straight to the bedroom. As I reach the doorway, I pause when I hear the sound of a drawer opening and closing.
“Ford?” I ask and step inside.
An older man looks up. He seems surprised to see me like he was caught doing something wrong. In my haste and confusion, I don’t recognize him at first. Adrenaline spikes and I look around for a weapon, for anything to fight off tis intruder—
“Katherine, dear, you’re home early.”
That voice. I take a step back and my hands come up to my racing heart. “Mr. Arc?” Ford’s grandfather.
He smiles awkwardly at me and spreads his hands. “That’s right, dear. Oh, this is very uncomfortable. I thought you were at work.”
“I was, but—did Ford send you?” I shake my head, trying to make sense of this. “Why were you going through my stuff?” He’s standing in front of my dresser with my underwear drawer open.
“Yes, that’s a good question. Ah, damn, I really thought you’d be at work for another hour at least.” He sighs, walks to the bed, and slowly sits down. “But I suppose you’re here and there’s nothing we can do about that. Maybe now’s the perfect time to tell you the truth.”
“The truth? About what? I’m sorry, Mr. Arc, but I have a family emergency and—”
He smiles at me like he couldn’t give less of a shit about what I’m saying.
“The truth about why Ford wants to marry you, dear. I think you’ll want to listen.”
Chapter 23
Ford
Iditch a business meeting early to race home. I’m trying to close a new deal on some rental properties out in Florida but that shit can wait—Kat’s mother is in trouble and that means it’s time to step up. This is why we got together in the first place and I knew this might happen one day, only I hoped it wouldn’t be for a while.
Still, this is what it means to care about someone.
Which is a strange thought to have. Me, caring about someone enough to drop whatever I’m doing. It’s fucking madness.
Kat’s worries and problems are my worries and problems now, and while I can’t fix her mother’s addiction, I can at least be there for Kat and offer her every resource I can manage to scrounge up.
It’s ludicrous, this whole caring-about-someone thing.
And it’s my choice. It’s not an easy choice, but it’s the right one and I believe I’m going to be a better man for it even if it means I’m going to suffer in the short term. I care about Katherine, and if I lose my chance at taking control of my family then I’m happy to get shoved off to the side. I don’t want to run a family of ungrateful cretins, much less a family of monsters that couldn’t care less about me. Grandpop won’t be around forever, and the rest of the family isn’t stupidly obsessed with the Stocktons, and one day this absurd feud will fade from memory.
Maybe then I can rejoin and retake what I’ve lost.
For now, I’ll suffer, because that’s what it takes to make good on my promise to Kat.
I’ll protect her, no matter what.
The elevator doors open. I step out and head into the living room. “Kat?” I call out but nobody answers. The couches look like someone’s been flipping the cushions over trying to find change underneath them and there’s a wallet sitting on the kitchen counter that I vaguely recognize. It’s old and leather, and I frown because it’s incredibly familiar but very out of place.
I walk over and gingerly pick it up as my stomach turns sour. No, this can’t be what I think it is, but it’s so damn familiar, I’ve seen it a thousand times since I was a little boy. It was shiny and new when Grandpop bought it, but now it’s worn in and faded and stained by time and use, and Grandpop’s face grins out at me from his driver’s license when I open it up.
What the hell is his wallet doing here?
There’s a noise from upstairs. A raised voice, only a murmur at this distance, but it sounds distressed. My pulse fires like a rocket. I drop the wallet and run to the stairs, my muscles tensing and preparing for action. Grandpop’s wallet is here, and Kat’s coming home soon, and her mother is missing—